The Complete Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley, Volum 4Virtue, 1905 |
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Side 11
... dead and damned : — then , as to Beatrice [ Looking around him suspiciously . I think they cannot hear me at that door ; What if they should ? And yet I need not speak , Though the heart triumphs with itself in words . O II The Cenci.
... dead and damned : — then , as to Beatrice [ Looking around him suspiciously . I think they cannot hear me at that door ; What if they should ? And yet I need not speak , Though the heart triumphs with itself in words . O II The Cenci.
Side 12
... hear What now I think ! Thou , pavement , which I tread Towards her chamber , — let your echoes talk Of my imperious step scorning surprise , But not of my intent ! - Andrea ! Enter ANDREA . ANDREA My lord ? CENCI Bid Beatrice attend me ...
... hear What now I think ! Thou , pavement , which I tread Towards her chamber , — let your echoes talk Of my imperious step scorning surprise , But not of my intent ! - Andrea ! Enter ANDREA . ANDREA My lord ? CENCI Bid Beatrice attend me ...
Side 19
... hear it , Count . CENCI It is indeed a most desired event . If , when a parent from a parent's heart Lifts from this earth to the great father of all A prayer , both when he lays him down to sleep , And when he rises up from dreaming it ...
... hear it , Count . CENCI It is indeed a most desired event . If , when a parent from a parent's heart Lifts from this earth to the great father of all A prayer , both when he lays him down to sleep , And when he rises up from dreaming it ...
Side 21
... hear me not , I tell you they are dead ; And they will need no food or raiment more : The tapers that did light them the dark way Are their last cost . The Pope , I think , will not Expect I should maintain them in their coffins ...
... hear me not , I tell you they are dead ; And they will need no food or raiment more : The tapers that did light them the dark way Are their last cost . The Pope , I think , will not Expect I should maintain them in their coffins ...
Side 23
... , thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl Under the lamplight , as my spirits do , To hear the death of my accursed sons ! Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood , Then 23 The Cenci.
... , thou bright wine whose purple splendour leaps And bubbles gaily in this golden bowl Under the lamplight , as my spirits do , To hear the death of my accursed sons ! Could I believe thou wert their mingled blood , Then 23 The Cenci.
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Vanlige uttrykk og setninger
ANDREA art thou BERNARDO blood blood and gold BOAR calm CAMILLO Cenci Palace child cold Colonna Palace confess corpse Count Cenci crime curse damned dare dark dead dear death deed Devil dread dream dull earth Enter BEATRICE Enter LUCRETIA Exeunt Exit eyes Farewell father fear gentle GIACOMO grave groan Grosvenor Square guilty hair hate heard heart Heaven Hell hope innocent Iona JUDGE kill knew Lady Leigh Hunt live look Lord MAMMON MARZIO measured words mind MINOTAUR mother murdered never night o'er OLIMPIO ORSINO pale parricide Peter Bell Petrella pigs pity Pope pray prison PURGANAX Rome Salamanca SAVELLA SCENE SEMICHORUS Shelley sister sleep smile soul speak spirit strange styes suffer sweet SWELLFOOT swine talk tears Thebes thee thine things Thou art thought thro tortures trample trepanning truth twere tyrant weep whilst wind words wretched wrong
Populære avsnitt
Side 392 - By heaven, methinks it were an easy leap, To pluck bright honour from the pale-faced moon, Or dive into the bottom of the deep, Where fathom-line could never touch the ground, And pluck up drowned honour by the locks...
Side 188 - I met Murder on the way — He had a mask like Castlereagh — Very smooth he looked, yet grim; Seven blood-hounds followed him: All were fat; and well they might Be in admirable plight, For one by one, and two by two, He tossed them human hearts to chew Which from his wide cloak he drew.
Side 309 - Then by strange art she kneaded fire and snow Together, tempering the repugnant mass With liquid love — all things together grow Through which the harmony of love can pass ; And a fair Shape out of her hands did flow A living Image, which did far surpass In beauty that bright shape of vital stone Which drew the heart out of Pygmalion.
Side vi - ... showed itself towards one daughter under the form of an incestuous passion, aggravated by every circumstance of cruelty and violence. This daughter, after long and vain attempts to escape from what she considered a perpetual contamination both of body and mind, at length plotted with her mother-in-law and brother to murder their common tyrant.
Side vii - Such a story, if told so as to present to the reader all the feelings of those who once acted it — their hopes and fears, their confidences and misgivings, their various interests, passions, and opinions, acting upon and with each other, yet all conspiring to one tremendous end — would be as a light to make apparent some of the most dark and secret caverns of the human heart.
Side 6 - It is a public matter, and I care not If I discuss it with you. I may speak Alike to you and my own conscious heart ; For...
Side 58 - I hide them not. What are the words which you would have me speak? I, who can feign no image in my mind Of that which has transformed me: I, whose thought Is like a ghost shrouded and folded up In its own formless horror: of all words, That minister to mortal intercourse, Which woulclst thou hear?
Side 53 - And standing calm and motionless, whilst I Slide giddily as the world reels. . . . My God ! The beautiful blue heaven is flecked with blood ! The sunshine on the floor is black!
Side 69 - And winds with short turns down the precipice. And in its depth there is a mighty rock, Which has, from unimaginable years, Sustained itself with terror and with toil Over a gulf, and with the agony With which it clings seems slowly coming down ; Even as a wretched soul hour after hour Clings to the mass of life ; yet, clinging, leans ; And, leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss In which it fears to fall.
Side 98 - I do not feel as if I were a man, But like a fiend appointed to chastise The offences of some unremembered world. My blood is running up and down my veins; A fearful pleasure makes it prick and tingle: I feel a giddy sickness of strange awe; My heart is beating with an expectation Of horrid joy.